Between the Stars
by Exia
Summary: Drabbles born from my Tumblr. Come and travel the stars with me as we fall from world to world.
1. Cupcakes

Prompt was from my good friend Dreamer In Silico. She asked for, "Two companion characters of your choice get into some mischief under Shepard's nose. ^_^"

This is what my brain produced.

ooOO00OOoo

There were muffled grunts and cursing echoing through the mess hall, hushed sounds of extreme effort as the noisemakers strove to be silent and keep from waking others.

"She better like this."

"She will!"

"I bet it isn't even her birthday."

"Even if it isn't, who's to know? Shep won't talk about _her_ personal stuff."

A soft ding and the sound of an oven opening stilled the conversation for a moment.

"Uh, Jack? Are you sure these will work? They don't look right."

"Shut up the fuck up, Donnelly. There's no icing on them yet. Of course they don't look right. Don't you know anything about cupcakes?"

A pause, then an even softer answer: "Never seen one before. It's one of those old foods they don't make anymore."

"God dammit. I thought you knew how to cook! Weren't you the one bitching like a pussy about Gardner not knowing about good haggis? I thought that meant you could make some yourself."

"I can _eat_ haggis, not cook it."

"Then what the fuck good are you? Get out of my way. _I'll_ finish them."

Shuffled feet and soft sounds were the only thing to be heard for a time, before running water slight clinking noises signaled the clean up.

"Now what?"

"Now what? God. _Now_ you pick the fucking plate of cupcakes up off the counter, take it to the fucking elevator, and leave it outsider her damn door like you planned. What the hell was I thinking, getting involved in this?"

"You were thinking that you didn't want me poisoning Shepard with the sour milk." Donnelly leaned over and gave Jack a one-armed hug, secure in the knowledge that he was free from reprisal so long as the cupcakes she had worked so hard on remained balanced on his other hand.

"Bitch. Get off me. I'm going to sleep. _Don't_ mention this to anyone, or I will slit your fucking throat." The words were cruel, but the tone was one of soft embarrassment.

"Yes, ma'am."

Five minutes later, a plate of cupcakes sat outside Shepard's door, decorated with bright yellow chicks, the letters on their wings arranged to spell "Happy Birthday".


	2. Falling Leaves

This one was a prompt from another good friend: grotesquejak. This one was: Shep x Romance option of your choice, in the early stages of getting to know each other?

ooOO00OOoo

Leaves fell in cascades from the trees above, a riot of reds and yellows as they fluttered to the ground. Birds sang as they flitted to and fro in the branches, and the air was crisp as the wind sang through the trunks.

Shepard laughed and danced under the trees, her arms outstretched as she spun in circles, her hair swinging out wildly behind her. "This is beautiful!" She cried out to the sky. "I could stay here forever."

Tali pulled her head back around the corner of the archway that was the entrance to the park. She had never seen Shepard like that before. So happy and carefree. Unaware that she was being watched, uncaring – for once – that she was unarmed and vulnerable to attack. Shepard was normally someone that Tali looked up to. Someone she respected, and even feared a little bit. But this one…

Tali slumped against the wall and put her head in her hands. This one wasn't frightening at all. No, _fear_ was not the emotion that this Shepard evoked. Not at all.

ooOO00OOoo

Shepard headed down to the engineering deck. They had been docked at the Citadel for almost a week now, and the only one who hadn't taken any time off was Tali. Shepard was determined to change that.

Soft music was playing over the speakers, something that never would happen under normal circumstances. But the only one in engineering was Tali, and Shepard smiled as the doors swooshed open. It was an old asari love ballad. She always knew that Tali had a romantic heart.

The Quarian's regular workstation was empty, so Shepard kept going, following the path until she could see down the hallway that led to the engine sphere. And…there she was.

Shepard's breath caught in her throat and she took a step back, leaning against the console behind her, unwilling to interrupt Tali.

She was dancing.

Quarian joints were different, granting her grace and poise beyond a humans'. Her movements were slow, flowing smoothly from one to the next as her hands and feet followed the pattern of the music. Hips swayed, and fingers flicked as the tempo picked up a little, her whole body following the line of her shoulders as she spun in an elegant movement.

One hand reached back, as if searching for support, while the other curved forward around the imaginary waist of her partner. It curled in further, as if to draw a lover near, and Shepard felt the pull.

Tali's eyes were closed in bliss, until Shepard slipped her arm around the other woman's waist in a tentative touch.

"Tali, I…you're beautiful." Shepard spoke in a hushed tone, loath to break the peace.

Tali froze for one agonizing moment, before her arm curled around Shepard's waist in turn. "So are you."


	3. Surprise Hugs

Born from rprambles drabble prompt: Mass Effect, surprise hugs

ooOO00OOoo

Garrus emerged from the Main Battery in search of food, only to find EDI's new avatar standing in front of the kitchen like a statue.

"Uh, EDI?" Garrus said, approaching the avatar cautiously. Not that long ago that body had been trying to kill him, so he was still understandably leery of the thing, even if EDI was in charge of it. "What are you doing?"

The head turned towards him – just the head – and Garrus suppressed a shudder at the unnatural movement. Usually the rest of the body flowed with the movements, but hers were so segmented they were disturbing.

"Jeff requires sustenance. I offered to procure it for him." She told him in her robot voice.

"Oh, okay…" Garrus moved to walk off when her words registered. "…procure? Are you COOKING for him?"

"Yes." She turned back to the kitchen area, and Garrus noticed the skillet with the unidentified black substance welded to the bottom of the pan. "But it is harder than I anticipated."

"I…see." Garrus moved off a little ways, slightly put off by the unusual actions of the AI. She was becoming more and more organic with each passing day. And that was before she took over control of the artificial body. Now, she was just downright strange.

Suddenly, two hands appeared around each side of his body, curling around him from behind and trapping him within the unnaturally strong grip of the AI. Garrus grunted from the force of the grip as the air was forced from his lungs.

"Uh..EDI…Need to breath, Honey…" he wheezed.

"My apologies." EDI released him and took a step back.

Garrus turned around to look at her where she stood with her hands behind her back and her head lowered, the picture of organic shame. "What was that for?"

"I have noticed that organics hug those they are fond of. I appreciate all that you have done for the war effort – and me- and I wanted to show you in a physical way, now that I am capable. Did I do wrong?" EDI's mechanical voice was so soft and uncertain, melting just a little bit of Garrus' heart.

Garrus stepped forward and placed a hand on her metallic shoulder. "No, of course not. I appreciate all you do for us, too." Garrus moved closer still and wrapped the robot's body in his arms, holding her awkwardly for a moment before moving away. "There, now. Not so bad, huh?"

"No." EDI moved back to the kitchen, her spontaneous hug apparently forgotten. "All I must do now is master cooking."

"Good luck with that." Garrus said before he departed. "Most organics never learn how."

"I will manage I'm sure. Applying heat to substances until they reach temperature cannot be that difficult." EDI responded.

Garrus took careful steps backwards, wary of more unannounced hugs. "You'll see." Then he escaped.


	4. President of the Universe

From another good friend of mine (Tumblr is great for those, come join the party!) Braxy29. She requested: Zaeed paired with Jack…

ooOO00OOoo

"What did you do!"

The sound of crashing metal and broken parts echoed down the hallway, emphasizing the anger in Jacks' voice.

"How did this happen?" she cried, her voice a mixture of fear and anger. "What am I going to do now?"

"Same thing every woman before you has done for a millennium, Doll." Zaeed drolled at the furious biotic in his room. "Laze around for nine months then spend ten minutes pushing to pop out a little raisin."

"It's not that easy, asshole!" Jack screamed and produced a biotic pulse that hurled all of the items displayed on Zaeed's tables into the air, their various parts disappearing into lost corners as her anger manifested as tears streaking down her cheeks. "I'm pregnant, you bitch! This isn't some plant that is overgrown that you can prune back to acceptable limits! It's another life! What the hell am I going to do with a little sprog?"

Zaeed laughed. "Same thing as every other mother, I imagine. You'll feed it mash 'till it gets its teeth, then move on to solid food. What are you so panicked about?"

"I'm not panicking, fucker!" Jack screamed at Zaeed, her every action indicative of total loss of control. "I just don't know…what the fuck do I do now?"

Zaeed finally sobered up a little, taking a step forward and laying a hand on her arm to still her frantic pacing. "You eat right and stop drinking. We pick out a name…together…and we give it a good life when it's born. What else were you expecting?" For all his devil-may-care attitude, Zaeed appeared to actually be concerned with the fate of this tiny human.

"I don't know!" Jack jerked her arm free of Zaeed's grip violently, but she still didn't leave his room, unwilling to face the rest of the world as of yet. "I can't take care of a kid!"

"Sure you can." Zeeed's overwhelming confidence in her was catching, even if Jack thought it was totally unwarranted. "Just think of all the things that happened to you…then make sure they don't happen to it."

"What about you?" Jack's voice was suddenly tiny, the tone reminiscent of an uncertain teenager more than that of an all-powerful bitch. "What are you going to do?"

"Me?" Zaeed closed the distance with Jack and took her in his arms, her struggling a token resistance only. "I'm going to be there for the both of you. Where else would I be?"

Their kiss was slow and sweet. So different from all the ones previous. But it set the tone for their relationship for the rest of their lives. And their kid?

She went on to be the President of the Universe.

After Shepard destroyed all the Reapers.


	5. Tears

This one has no prompt beyond my own melancholy mood.

ooOO00OOoo

Tears.

Warm and wet as they poured down the face. An outpouring of grief that they should all have been strong enough to contain - but none of them were. Many had come for the funeral, but precious few knew the person behind the mysterious name. Those that did were the most stoic, refusing to allow others to see their pain, despite the moisture clearly visible upon their faces.

Whispers amongst the crowd. Where was their significant other? Did they not have one?

What none, save those precious few, knew was that the significant other was an alien. A socially unacceptable thing unless you were an Asari; the two of them had come together while fighting to save the galaxy, and the bond had transcended physical form. As it now transcended death.

Wind.

Blowing through the trees, it stripped the branches of their leaves and showered them upon the mourners, a gift to the fallen one as they, too grieved for the one who was lost. Birds flitted through the naked boughs, their voices a warbling lament offered up to the sky. One worthy of regard was being enshrined here today.

The body is laid to rest, and the crowd departs. Only the precious few are left. Those who knew and mourn the most refuse to leave until it is finished. Then, they too, depart. Leaving all but the last.

The One who missed the most.

Soft footsteps, a hand laid tenderly upon a stone erected in honor of the one who was gone.

"What shall I do, now that you are gone? Who will care when I leave this body to its final rest? Who will know me as you did, care and love the one behind the titles I've earned? It wasn't supposed to…"

_End this way._


	6. Color Schemes

I made this for rprambles. Cuz I felt like it.

ooOO00OOoo

Garrus disembarked from the Normandy and looked around, feeling awkward for the first time forever as he left the bay. Normally, he had a destination firmly in mind. A place to go, and a time to be back from it that put purpose in his strides and caused most of the other slow-moving denizens of the Citadel to move out of his way. But this time…

Well.

He knew where he'd LIKE to go…but he wasn't really sure where it was, or how to get there. He'd recently told Shepard that he wanted to be a painter once upon a time, and she'd laughed it off as she always did. But that got him thinking. He had been good at it – when he was younger. With the Reapers attacking Earth and Palaven, what reason did he have to put it off now? He'd always wanted to pick it up again, and hey! The whole galaxy could be destroyed tomorrow.

Why not?

Garrus turned to the right, walking off into the crowd. He'd taken his ever-present armor off and replaced it with the casuals he'd bough six months ago and never worn. It was weird walking around without the comforting weight of metal, but as Garrus entered the art store, he knew he'd made the right call. It was small, and mostly empty, so Garrus didn't feel too awkward as he skulked in the paint department, wondering at the colors. What did they even mean? Amaranth? Anti-flash white? Auro Metal Saurus? What happened to blue, and green, and yellow?

Shrugging his shoulders philosophically, Garrus selected some of the bolder colors, making his way down the line. It wasn't until he came to the browns that he faltered. Did he need brown at all? Couldn't he just…mix the others until they became brown? Or…he looked closer at one of the names. Blast-off Bronze. Not to be concerned with Antique brass. Garrus shook his head.

Footsteps approached and stopped one display over. Garrus looked to his left to see a human female reach out with one hand and grab one of the Turian models from the shelving. She manipulated its joints, testing the reach and flexibility of it. Then she set it down and picked up a Salarian one, doing the same. Garrus glanced at her hair, and found himself wondering about its color. Was that what Antique Brass looked like? Or was it – he looked back at the color scheme – Café au lait? He snuck glances back and forth between the two, trying to compare the two subtly.

"Can I help you with something?"

Garrus paused in his inspection of her hair and lifted his eyes to her face, startled. "I, uh…"

She smiled and turned to face him fully, apparently amused at his frozen expression. "Never seen a human this up close before? You must be new to the Citadel. Fresh from Palaven, I guess."

Garrus' expression shifted from shock to amusement. Fresh from Palaven? Him? The c-sec detective with ten years under his belt and one of the highest arrest rates? Commander Shepard's right hand? The thought made him laugh. "Not, uh." He cleared his throat of the amusement. "Not really. I was just staring at your hair, actually."

She tilted her head to the side a little, a small smile quirking up the side of her mouth.

"…Okay. That sounded bad. I wasn't being creepy, I swear." He raised his hands defensively, causing some of the small tubes of color to spill to the ground. "Oh, damn."

She laughed, a high tinkling sound Garrus had always found intriguing. Human laughter always reminded him of the flying reptiles on Palaven, the ones who's wings whistled as they flapped.

"I'm sorry. Let me try this again." Garrus put the paints down, scooping up the few on the ground with her assistance. "My name is Garrus, and I was just trying to figure out these color schemes. I've not painted in years, and there seem to be so many more colors than there were before. I was trying to decide what color your hair was."

She smiled at him, holding out her hand to him once both of theirs were free. "I'm Emi. And I would say that it's just traditional chocolate. What about you?"

"Me?" Garrus asked, shaking her hand.

"Yeah." She turned to face the color mattes, an amused twinkle in her eye. "Are your plates Cool Grey, or Languid Lavender?"

"Cool Grey. Definitely Cool Grey."


	7. Classically Rannoch

Braxy29 said, "exia, i am aware that chapter 6 of "between the stars" was the product of your inserting another friend as a character, and you did it beautifully. naturally, the next step is to see whether you can write yourself into your work as well. i know we give "mary-sues" a hard time in the world of fanfic, but i bet you can pull it off! :)

So, here you go. My first-ever attempt at a self-insert fic. Bet it's not what you expect!

ooOO00OOoo

Tali laughed as she pulled Kal'Reeger through the crowd. The war with the Reapers had finally been won, and the long, arduous process of clean up had begun. There were still lifetimes of work left to do, and so many lives had been lost in the struggle.

But those were worries for another day. Because for now, right this moment, they were going on a date.

"Where are we going, Ma'am?" Kal'Reeger asked, unconcerned about the undignified picture he made being drug through the mesh of people by a slip of a woman.

"Kal!" Tali stopped suddenly, forcing Reeger to step to the side to avoid plowing into her. "Why are you still calling me 'ma'am'?"

"It seems inappropriate to call you anything else. Though I suppose 'Admiral Tali Zor-"

"Don't you dare!" Tali said, turning to face him with her hands on her hips. "We are on a DATE, Reeger. You can call me Tali."

"…yes, ma'am" Kal said, a smirk evident in his voice.

"Reeger…" Tali said with fond, exasperated affection. "Come on. We'll be late." She grabbed his hand and began to pull him through the crowd again.

Behind her, Kal'Reeger laughed, enjoying the ability to freely needle her without the concerns of the war hanging over their heads.

ooOO00OOoo

The house was abuzz with the chatter of hundreds of voices as Tali and Kal found their seats. They were in the third row, perfect for hearing the music without having to crane their necks. Tali had unashamedly pulled rank to get the seats, saying that she'd fought so hard for peace, she was 'damn well' going to take advantage of it.

"We're here for music? What kind?" Kal asked curiously as the people began to settle into their chairs.

"Classical. It's a type of human music." Tali said, turning the volume of her speakers down and leaning over so he could still hear her. "Shepard told me about it. It's one of the older types still practiced. This composer is supposed to be really good."

"Who is it?" Kal said, leaning closer and slipping an arm around the back of her chair.

Tali shifted her shoulders in an unconscious gesture that just so happened to end with her leaning against his side. "A human female. Only name she gives is Ali. Shhh! It's about to start."

Up on the stage, a Turian came out, welcoming the crowd and giving a little bit of information on the performer. "….and now! I give you… ALI!" The Turian waved his hand behind him and a human stepped out of the shadows.

She approached a massive black shape, and a spotlight shone on her destination, revealing a thick, flat object supported on three legs. The woman bowed to the crowd with a somber face and approached the side of the object, lifting up a thin flap and propping it up with a stick stored in the interior of the object. Then she went around to another side, sat on a bench, and placed her hands on a small lip.

She stilled for a moment. Then she began to play.

ooOO00OOoo

Tali and Kal left the concert hand in hand, casually strolling down the street.

"What did you think of the music, Reeger?"

"It reminded me of Rannoch, somehow. Of the fight to get it back, and the joy of standing on its soil for the first time."

Tali tightened her hand around his. "That's what I thought, too."


	8. Models

Rprambles asked for: Shep tracking down all her model ships and angry at whoever scattered them all over the Normandy

ooOO00OOoo

Shepard breathed deeply, trying to force her mind clear as she looked around her cabin. All was as it should be. The tank still dominated the left wall; her bed was still down the steps and in the middle of the room. The Prothean sphere was missing, but that was understandable. Liara had been after it for months. At least her models hadn't been…who touched her models?

Shepard suddenly straightened, all exhaustion forgotten as she surveyed her room carefully. "Who the hell-?" Shepard asked as she prowled down the steps.

"Commander? Do you need something?" EDI asked solicitously.

"My models. Where are my models?" Shepard asked, a note of panic creeping into her voice.

"They have been removed."

"Yes, EDI. I can see that. Where did they go?" Shepard said, annoyed.

"Searching…..scans show that no models were removed from the vessel upon repairs. Many of my cameras were inoperable during the transition; I am afraid that I am unable to pinpoint their locations at this moment." EDI sounded regretful.

Shepard made an abrupt about face and headed straight for her door, stopping short of the elevator when she realized she had no shirt on. She returned briefly to her room and threw a tank top on, stomping into the elevator seconds later.

Her footsteps were heavy as she traversed the Normandy, her eyes raptor-sharp as she scanned the nooks and crannies in search of her models. She found them all over. Her Turian battleship and the model of Sovereign were down in Jack's hidey hole, the model of the original Normandy was hidden in Zaeed's old room. It seemed that everywhere she went, she found another complete model in some out of the way corner of her ship.

The more models she found, the angrier she got. Who would do this to her? She was Commander Fucking Shepard! She'd killed babies for less. (Okay, not really. But it was the principal of the thing!)

Eventually, all of the missing models had been tracked down. Save for one.

"All right!" Shepard called as she stepped into the mess. "Where is it?"

"Commander?" Garrus asked as he descended the steps from the Battery into the Mess. "Something the matter?"

"My models. Someone took my models and scattered them around the ship. I've found all of them but one. And it's my favorite. So." She turned fierce eyes on her assembled crew. "Where is it?"

"They don't know, Shepard."

Shepard turned to see Liara coming out of Miranda's old room. "Liara?" Shepard asked wearily.

"I, however, do." Liara continued, as if the Commander hadn't spoken.

"…well?" Shepard asked, when Liara didn't finish her thought.

"This way." Liara said, and turned, leaving Shepard to follow in her wake, back into the room Liara had claimed as her own.

Shepard was about to demand an answer, when Liara stepped out of the way and…there it was. Laid out on Liara's bed was the missing model of her airship around Hagalaz.

"Wh..how…where?" Shepard asked, tenderly picking the model up and turning it over in her hands.

"Well, that ship brought us together once before." Liara said, her voice a soft and tentative sound Shepard hadn't heard in a long time. "I was rather hoping it could do the same again."

"Liara…" Shepard abandoned the model on the bed and approached the hardened Shadow Broker fidgeting in the middle of her web of information. "You don't need them to bring me to you." Shepard placed one finger under Liara's chin and tilted it up to so they could look in each other's eyes. "You do that all on your own."

Nothing had ever been so perfect as when Shepard's lips met Liara's, and their arms slipped around each other's waists.


	9. PingPong

This one was really difficult. Dreamerinsilico promted me to write, "Hrmmmmm... Kasumi and Mordin play ping-pong!" I had to sleep on it. But! I'm REALLY happy with the final result. Tell me what you think!

ooOO00OOoo

Aria dismissed her guards and prowled the darkened shadows of her kingdom silently. At times, she liked to go down to the bottom and work her way back up again, seeing how desperate the rest of the station was gave her a good indication of how soon she would be looking to put down her next coup.

Rounding a corner, she came to a brightly lit shop in the middle of a sludge-filled alley. Intrigued, she entered to find that it was a gathering place for sentient life forms that DIDN'T operate around the consumption of alcohol. Instead of a bar and loud music, this place was filled with finger foods decorating the tables at the room's periphery and…what WERE those things?

Various tables and devices littered the room, covered in strange contraptions. Next to each was a small plaque, and Aria drifted up to one, determined to discover the nature of this shop – and it if would be something she needed to bring to heel, or crush under her boot.

"Table tennis (or Ping-Pong as it is more commonly known as) is a human sport that involves a small plastic ball and two paddles, one held by each competitor…" Aria's incredulity rose as she read farther. Ping-Pong?

Voices emerged from the back, and Aria retreated, unwilling to be recognized.

"Let's see it, Old Man. Your brain must be sharp, but my hands are sharper."

"Factual: salarian reflexes are faster than the average human's."

"Oh, but I'm anything but average."

The salarian doctor, Mordin Solus (hadn't Commander Shepard recruited him?) stepped up to the Ping-Pong table and picked up one of the paddles, using it to bounce the little white ball against the table's surface. "Hope you are prepared. Not former STG for nothing."

Aria turned her head to see his opponent, but the space was suspiciously blank.

"Bring it on," a bodiless voice responded.

Mordin hit the ball with his paddle, sending it bouncing across the table to the empty spot. The ball vanished for a split second, then reappeared, flying back over the table at a considerably increased speed. But Mordin was unconcerned, and simply returned the volley with a careless flick of his wrist. Back and forth the ball went, with Mordin playing against some cloaked foe, apparently unconcerned with his handicap.

Aria slipped out the doors of the shop and continued on her way. She would leave this place alone. Ping-Pong just didn't have a place in her empire.


	10. Pale Death

Remember that awesome CGI scene they did for ME2 where Thane busts into some control room and proceeds to wipe the floor with all the poor bastards inside? Yeah, this is what happened before he entered that room.

BE WARNED: this is not pretty. It is dark, and hateful. There is cold, premeditated murder, and Thane is _glad_ of it.

ooOO00OOoo

Rage was a living thing inside his body, a parasite squirming about his insides, burning hotter than fire. It traveled his veins, suffusing his whole body with its overwhelming heat. He stalked through the snow towards his prey, and his anger kept him warm.

Tonight, he carried no guns. No knife or blade kept him company. Just his hands and the overwhelming grief that stalked at his side. He had hunted and killed his way across the galaxy, performed murders and massacres in the name of his wrath, and tonight he would end it. This was the last.

The batarians knew he was coming. He had made no effort to conceal the bodies, no attempt at hiding who was coming for them. They had murdered his wife because they were too _gutless_ to face him head on, and each of them was paying for their spineless nature.

Snow cut across his vision, and he looked up, judging the cover of clouds. It looked like a blizzard was moving in, and Thane lowered his head, a deep growl of pleasure hovering in the air around him. The Gods had seen fit to assist him. The snowfall would blanket the land, piling up against the windows and doors, blocking all exits.

There was nowhere left for them to run.

Even with their forewarning, it was ridiculously easy to sneak into the compound, sliding unnoticed through the gaps in their security. Thane slipped up behind the first guard and attacked. He kicked out with his leg, slamming his foot against the back of the batarian's knee, causing the it to collapse forward into the snow. The cold powder muffled the surprised cry it made, and Thane brought his leg up again, bringing it down with overwhelming force onto the downed batarian's spine. The audible crack and the sensation of vertebrae separating under his food brought Thane a sense of deep visceral satisfaction. Its arms thrashed wildly in the snow, hurling flurries into the air, creating a screen of white that only served to hide Thane and his victim from observing eyes. He hunched over the downed form, his teeth barred in a silent snarl as he gripped the head in both of his hands. He didn't feel the cold of the metal helmet as pulled on the head, curving the body backwards into a position that would have been impossible for the batarian body to achieve had it still been whole. He flipped over the body in an acrobatic move, twisting the head as he did so, snapping the neck and turning the whole thing over with the force of it.

He flashed his head up, looking for others, but the area was unfortunately deserted for the moment. He moved off the body, already dismissing it from his mind as he approached the door it had been guarding. The door lead into an abandoned hallway, and Thane picked an arbitrary direction, moving forward without thought to concealment.

He encountered several other batarians who did not yet know that they were dead, farther down. Thane took great satisfaction on educating them.

He left the bodies where they lay; momentarily wishing he had brought a set of knives with him after all. While killing with his hands was certainly satisfying, he longed to watch skin peel away from flesh as orange blood pooled beneath his feet.

He moved on, keeping watch for more ignorant dead bodies, encountering a few that he gleefully dispatched. He traveled the perimeter of the compound, a trail of destruction in his wake. Stooping over his last kill, its hand still clutched around an old-style radio it had been speaking into, Thane pried the ancient hardware free, kicking the body away with disdain. He fiddled with the controls for a moment, before finding the activation switch. He spoke three words into the device, then dropped it into the snow and paced towards the last, central building.

"_I am here."_

He kicked the door to the control room down with more force than was necessary, relishing the pure and primal _fear_ that suffused the air with its bitter tang. These few were the last. None would survive.


	11. Pragia

My Tumblr husband asked for: A origin type story for your favourite female romance option (even if you havent played as maleshep

ooOO00OOoo

The first thing she remembered, as far back as she could recall, was pain. Pain in her head, pain in her hands, pain up and down her legs and the soles of her feet. Deep, spirit-crushing pain.

Then it was the fear. Still too young to even be able to form the thoughts into words, she had looked around what was to be her cell for the next twelve years of her life and felt fear for the first time. Gone were the nurses with their comforting plastic faces and their soft, detached words. Gone were the small toys that made tinkling noises and spoke to her with human words.

What she had now were cold metal walls and bright lights. She waved her fist in front of her face, struggling to make the piercing spotlights go somewhere else.

"…_have to stand if she wants away from them."_

It took her two days to overcome the pain, but eventually she managed to move out of the heat created by the bulbs. Then her food was left on the table, and she had to climb for that.

Each week, each month, something was withheld from her, put beyond her reach, forcing her to move _around_ or _through_ or _over_ to get what she wanted. Or needed.

Then they stripped her of her clothing and put it all on the other side of a glass wall. She could see it, but not reach it. She was unconcerned, initially. Who needed clothes, anyway?

Then the temperature began to drop.

As her body temperature plummeted, her panic rose, her heartbeat pounding in her head. She cried, she screamed, she raged. Then, something in her _clicked_, and when she _pushed_ with her hands…the wall shattered.

Even more frightened now, she slipped through the hole in the glass, trying not to catch her skin on the shards reaching for her arms and legs. As she put on her clothes with fumbling fingers, the room filled with gas. When she came to, there were people with plastic faces surrounding her again, and a child on the other side of a circle, much the same age as she.

"Attack, or die."

ooOO00OOoo

Why, yes. I love Jack. How did you know?


	12. Chapter 12

My beta, BlackAquoKat, said: Hey, a weird thought occurred to me last night. Do you think there would be any shot at Thane and Tali being more than friends? Or no? Or at least something that suggests that there might be more between them than just companionship. Whatever.

It was just an idea that occurred to me, and since writing drabbles isn't really my forte…I thought you might be able to do something small with it. Only if you want to though.

Okay, that's all!

Here you do, Dear!

ooOO00OOoo

Thane watched from atop the stairs in the back of the assembly room as the Admiralty Board accused Tali'Zorah of being a traitor, her shock and fear evident in her body language as they told her about her father and the Alerie.

He watched from the shadows as she and Commander Shepard went and spoke to the Admirals, trying to use words to sway their minds.

He watched from her six as Tali cried for her lost father, tears choking in her voice as she wept, alone inside of her suit.

He watched from the stairs again as Shepard tried to talk the Admiralty board out of needing evidence and failed.

So when Shepard did what he had to, and allowed Tali to take the blame for her father's misdeeds, Thane stopped watching. He came forward, shadows pulling away from his shoulders as he wrapped one careful arm around Tali's waist. And when she turned into the embrace, curling her arms around his shoulders, he knew that, even if she had lost this home, she could still make one on the Normandy.

With him.


End file.
